


December Birthdays Suck

by Wheresthetime



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bakery Shop Owner Dean Winchester, Birthday, Castiel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Christmas, First Dates, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21862642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheresthetime/pseuds/Wheresthetime
Summary: Castiel is having a terrible week and to top it all off tomorrow is his birthday, but a December birthday is a pain in the ass when everyone's mind is focused on Christmas. When Castiel decides he deserves a treat at the local cafe he gets more than he bargained for. This may be his best birthday yet.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 105





	December Birthdays Suck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Squeevening](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeevening/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Squeevening!  
> Sorry for always using Christmas wrapping paper.

It wasn’t that Castiel hated Christmas. His heart was just the right size, as were his shoes. He had a festive tree decorated with whatever ornaments he thought had a chance of surviving his cat, Heroici, and a seasonably required carton of eggnog in his fridge. Come December 24th he would be as jolly as anyone else drinking way too much rum in front of the fire with his brother while Christmas Vacation played on the tv.

It was just that when he emerged from his hermitage in a fit of coding rage, he had forgotten that the rest of the world was in a different sort of rage altogether. It had taken him fifteen minutes of aimless circling to find a parking spot for his Lincoln Continental, and another three minutes of edging it into a space that was arguably too small, before waiting for traffic to slow enough for him to open the car door.

Christmas carols were blaring from the nearby speakers, and Castiel swore the population of his small town must have doubled, as he tried to make his way over the snowbank on the sidewalk.

He hadn’t worn his boots.

He had forgotten his scarf.

He shoved his already chilled hands into his pockets, because of course his gloves were safe and sound at home, where they were doing fuck all for anybody. All he wanted was a cup of coffee he hadn’t had to make himself. Was that too much to ask? Maybe a cookie.

He was three blocks from the new coffee shop. Three blocks of fighting his way through frantic shoppers. He wasn’t even a hundred percent sure the shop was open yet, but when Zachariah Adler had called for the third time in so many hours to discuss yet another feature he hadn’t paid for but wasn’t happy with nonetheless, Castiel had grabbed his coat and decided he had a desperate need to support local business.

“This was stupid,” he grumbled, but kept walking anyway. If he went back now, he’d have to go back to debugging the website his client, Crowley, had ignored for far too long. If he went back later, he’d still have to debug the website, but he’d do it while caffeinated. The choice was obvious.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. For a moment he considered ignoring it, but Gabriel was supposed to call to let him know his flight information, and for some insane reason he refused to text the information like a normal person.

“I want to see Santa!” screamed a little girl whose hair bows had probably been straight when they started their day.

“That’s where we’re going, but you have to walk,” grumbled the girl’s mother, struggling to lift the girl back onto her feet, while juggling the arm full of bags on the other. Bags that had no problem smashing into Castiel’s cell phone filled hand. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

His phone made a mad dash for the ground. He lunged and nearly had it when another brightly colored shopping bag intercepted his reach and his cell phone smashed to the icy sidewalk. Retrieving it from the slush he said a quick plea to the universe that it was unharmed only to turn the phone over and see the cracked scene displaying the date before going black. He desperately pressed the power button hoping for some spark of life.

Nothing.

December 18th the display had read. How had he not noticed? Tomorrow was his birthday.

Of course, it was.

Castiel didn’t consider himself to be cursed. He had a good life, even if his gregarious brother didn’t understand how he could be happy in his quiet little house in the country, but the universe had decided long ago that his birthday was never meant to be anything good. Having a birthday this close to Christmas had meant that even when people remembered his birthday, his gifts were always wrapped in red and green, and had almost always been snuck away from the tree. Something he had noticed that never happened with Gabriel and his July birthday, despite their shared parents.

When he had confronted his very religious parents over this fact, they had been unimpressed with his argument that Jesus hadn’t even been born in December and that Castiel had. As he was climbing the stairs to his room, he had decided it was the better part of valor to not explain the pagan origins of the Christmas tree, and over the years Castiel pushed his birthday out of his mind.

He wasn’t a child anymore but was it too much to ask the universe to have a little respect on his birthday week. Just this once? No, instead he had Adler who expected everything but wanted to pay for nothing and Crowley, the client who insisted on going to sketchy porn sites that infiltrated everything. Castiel had considered sending him links to Pornhub or even AO3 but decided that was probably opening a conversation he did not want to have.

This had been the week from hell, and it wasn’t looking like it was going to get better. Couldn’t he just have one good birthday?

Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas” played over the speakers. Again.

He should go home.

But damn it he had made it out of his house, and he was not going back without an overpriced cup of coffee.

By the time he arrived at the little café on the corner, he was striding along the sidewalk like a soldier on a mission.

The bell jingled when he walked in and he was instantly hit with the smell of high-end coffee and spices, the hiss of a steamer, and the chatter of excited customers.

The café was lovely. The furniture looked comfortable and the walls were lined with books and board games. The most interesting thing though had to be the very distinct difference between the two sides of the café.

On one side the café looked as if Santa’s workshop had thrown up all over it. There was tinsel and garland, paper snowflakes, popcorn chains and cranberries. A sign covered in fake snow proudly declared it The North Pole, and Castiel believed it. If a Christmas decoration existed that wasn’t represented he didn’t know what it was. The staff was dressed in elaborate elf costumes, and the customers cheered when a barista sprinkled cinnamon over a flame sending glittering sparks into the air. Castiel could just see the edge of a bakery display case filled with green and red baked goods through the eager crowd of waiting customers.

On the other side of the café was another display case, but behind this one was a man in everyday clothes. The side of the café wasn’t bare, though in contrast to the Christmas explosion, Castiel could understand why you would first think that. It was well decorated, but there was an obvious lack of the Christmas excess that signaled this time of year. The line was significantly shorter, and it was an easy choice to choose that side of the café.

As he got closer to the case Castiel noticed that each baked good had a name. The corner of his mouth ticked up despite himself as he read. There was the “Hanukkah is not Jewish Christmas” muffin made with potato flour and apples. The “Kwanzaa Is Happening Too” sweet potato tart with jerk seasoning. Below that were cookies in the shapes of hearts or doves with tags reading “In Remembrance” and “Blue Christmas.”

And there in the corner in contrast to the otherwise simply decorated items was a riot of color and frosting. The “December Birthdays Suck” cupcake. It didn’t have a wrapper, like a traditional cupcake, but was decorated on all sides with elaborate piping. It looked like a perfectly decorated birthday cake. There wasn’t a speck of green or red on it.

Castiel was surprised to feel a lump in his throat. It was a cupcake for goodness sakes.

“Can I get you something?”

“That!” he said. He hadn’t even noticed he was next in line. “Oh, and a large dark roast. Please.”

He looked up into the amazing green eyes of the barista, and felt his breath catch. Damn. Did men come in packages like that in the real world? Castiel didn’t think so. Maybe he should get out more.

The man smiled sympathetically.

“December birthday, huh?” he asked, already sliding open the case.

“It’s tomorrow actually.”

“The 19th? That sucks,” he said, gesturing to a small plate. “Eating here?”

“Yes, please.”

“I have a friend with a Christmas Eve birthday,” he said. “She always hated it, so a few years ago we started celebrating in June.”

He placed the cake on a small china plate with elaborate script around the edges and slid the coffee forward, a pale blue mug with a bee on it that didn’t match anything else, but that instantly made Castiel feel at home.

“That will be $9.58.”

“Oh, of course.”

Somewhere in the allure of freckles and the faintest peak of a tattoo at the man’s collar, Castiel had forgotten completely that this was a transaction. Right, money, adulting.

He reached into his pocket, and his stomach sunk. No. He reached into the other. No, no, no. He frantically checked his jean pockets, not that his wallet was ever there, it was always in his jacket pocket. Always. And then he remembered. He had been ordering a Christmas present and his wallet was still sitting next to his monitor at his desk.

Christmas had fucked him over, yet again.

“Oh, wait,” Castiel said. “I can pay with my phone…no I can’t. Fuck. It broke. I’m so sorry. I’ll just go.”

Castiel turned to leave, wishing that just this once the ground would cooperate and swallow him whole. Maybe he’d just go to bed and sleep till the 20th. Well done universe, he hadn’t thought it could get worse.

“Wait!” called the barista. “Dude, wait. Take it. My treat.”

“No, I couldn’t,” said Castiel, though he could already feel his eyes water. What was wrong with him?

“I’m the owner, and business is good,” the man said, gesturing to the enormous line on the other side of the café. “Come back in January when everyone has sworn off sugar. Perks of being the boss, right?”

“Are you sure?” Castiel asked, his voice breaking. The man was going to think he was completely unstable.

“Yes,” the owner of the cafe said. “Take this. There’s a small table in the corner with a reserved sign on it. It’s not reserved for anyone. I leave it like that in case someone really needs it, and no offence, but you look like you really need it.”

“It’s been a bad week,” Castiel said, with a watery smile, before straightening and introducing himself. “Castiel, but everyone calls me Cas.”

“Dean,” said the man, reaching across the register.

Castiel had always thought the fanfiction descriptions of that first touch were completely overdone, but when Dean squeezed his hand, he thought those authors may have been on to something.

“Take a break,” Dean said, nodding towards the small table.

Castiel found that he didn’t mind the Christmas joy on the North Pole side of the café, while he was tucked away comfortably in the corner. The cupcake was so perfect that he wished his phone wasn’t broken so he could take a picture of it. He never took pictures of food. The vent under the table blew hot air that was more than welcome on his cold, wet sneakers, and the first sip of coffee made him feel like a new man.

“Mind if you join you?”

Castiel looked up. Dean was even more stunning without the apron around his waist, and not trusting his voice, Castiel simply nodded.

“Thanks,” he said. “Next shift arrived, and I could use a break.”

Castiel didn’t consider himself a people person, but he knew he was an admirable faker. But to his own surprise he found he didn’t have to pretend with Dean. The conversation came easily, without the anxiety he often experienced trying to think of what to say next. He learned Dean was new in town but had family here. When Castiel told Dean he was also a business owner, “I operate Axis Web Design.” Dean exclaimed excitedly that he was hoping to find a local business to help him with his web presence.

Time passed quickly and before he knew it his absolutely perfect birthday cupcake was gone, his coffee mug was cold and the windows were darkening.

“That’s definitely the longest break I’ve ever taken in the middle of the day,” said Dean sheepishly, when one of his employees said goodbye for the day with a sly smirk.

“Me too,” Cas said. “I’m going to have one very pissed off client.”

“Oh, man,” said Dean. “You should have said something, I didn’t mean to keep you here. I didn’t want you to feel obligated. I—”

“It’s not a problem,” Castiel reassured him. “Trust me. I’m getting rid of this client after this project anyway. Perks of being the owner, right?”

Dean huffed a small laugh and stuck his hands into his pockets.

“Right."

“Yeah.”

Neither moved to leave and Castiel, not wanting to be the one to make things awkward shrugged his coat back on.

“Hey, um. I’m sure you have plans already, and it could always be another day or not, whatever, no pressure.” Dean stopped talking and shook his head in apparent exasperation. He took a deep breath and looked back up from where he had been talking to the floor. “Do you want to go out tomorrow for your birthday? As a date? Or not as a date, if I’m totally reading this wrong. It could just be a dude-bro, manly bonding, thing.”

Castiel laughed. “I would love that,” he said. “Not the dude-bro thing though. The first thing you said. The first thing would be good.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. A smile lit up his face. “I like the first thing better too. I know the perfect place. Ever been to the Roadhouse?”

“No,” Castiel said. He didn’t get out much and the bar had always seemed unwelcoming when he passed it.

“It’s better than it looks,” Dean said. “And Ellen thinks people start Christmas stuff too early so there won’t be any Christmas stuff yet. We could just focus on your birthday. I know it can feel like you’re being overshadowed by the hoopla. And everyone deserves their own special day.”

“That sounds great,” Castiel said sincerely, before giving Dean his number and reassuring him that he had a back-up phone at home he could reactivate.

By the time Castiel left, the streets were lit with thousands of lights twinkling in the trees and around the light posts. Christmas carols still played over the speakers, but he found he didn’t mind it much. Even knowing that he would be facing an expired meter ticket when he reached his car couldn’t dampen his mood.

He barely noticed the ride home or the annoyance of reactivating his old phone. His cat was curled up in his lap when he read the first message from Dean. His stomach fluttered for the first time since things with Inias had fallen apart.

And that decided it.

He deserved nice things too, damn it.

He shut off his alarm, and if he fell asleep dreaming about handsome café owners no one else needed to know.

The next morning, he woke to birthday messages, no doubt sent as a result of Facebook reminders, but appreciated nonetheless. He changed his email to “out of office” and ignored Adler’s messages altogether. He indulged in the tea he always saved for special occasions. He took his time with his yoga routine and didn’t worry about the clock while he engaged in some self-love in the shower.

He cuddled with his cat and watched a cheesy movie. He let himself enjoy the hell out of seeing Dean’s name on his phone as random texts came through. He even had a wonderful talk with his brother and struggled to bite his lip, when all he wanted to do was gleefully exclaim that he met a cute boy!

By the time he needed to get ready for his date, he had already had one of the best birthdays of his life.

Leaving his house two days in a row was not Castiel’s norm and although it had never bothered him before, he found his wardrobe now completely lacking. In a fit of desperation he almost video called Balthazar for help, but decided that he’d rather not let news slip about Dean until after they had actually had a proper date.

Not that he didn’t think it would go well. Castiel had a good feeling about Dean. Of course, he had had a good feeling about Inias too…but no, that wasn’t fair. Their relationship had been a good one, and he didn’t regret their time. They just hadn’t been meant to be.

He settled on a blue sweater he knew brought out his eyes, and a pair of jeans that clung to his ass in the best ways. He ran a gel covered hand through his hair and debated for just a moment on whether to add eyeliner before deciding that was probably better for a second date.

By the time the knock came at the door, Castiel was half convinced he had imagined how well yesterday’s conversation had gone and convinced that this Roadhouse business was bad news.

“He asked you out when you were a mess,” Castiel chastised himself. “This is an improvement.” Heroici meowed in agreement.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

The first thing Castiel noticed was that he had not imagined the warm green eyes or friendly smile from the day before. If anything, he had forgotten how broad those shoulders were, and how nice those freckles looked scattered across that perfect face.

The second thing he noticed was the small gift in Dean’s hands.

He had brought a gift.

Dean had brought him a birthday gift, and almost unbelievably, the present was wrapped in paper decorated with balloons and ribbons. Birthday wrapping paper.

“Hey Cas,” Dean said.

“Hello Dean.” Castiel couldn’t have stopped his smile if his life depended on it. “Is that for me? You didn’t have to.”

“Just a little something,” Dean said, shrugging. “You seemed to really like the mug from yesterday.”

“I did,” Castiel said, wondering if anyone could really be that perfect. “You used birthday paper, not Christmas.”

“Well yeah,” Dean said. “Course, I did. It’s your birthday.”

And that was it. Castiel was only a man, damn it, and he could only take so much. If the date started with an earth-shattering kiss, well, he was the birthday boy after all.


End file.
